


The Deepest Kind of Blue

by yugoslavia



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yugoslavia/pseuds/yugoslavia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hilbert can't keep up with Hilda. As he discovers, there are a few more ways he can't keep up in than he previously expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deepest Kind of Blue

The burning sensation in Hilbert’s lungs had grown unbearable, forcing him to stop. His back slumped backwards and his eyes skyward. Slowly, the worn and sweat-drenched rim of his baseball cap slid backwards and dropped to the ground.

He looked back over the bridge, squinting in the heat for anyone he could recognize. No one, even in the sea of people he was looking at.

Picking his hat up, Hilbert shrugged his pack back into its normal position and continued walking. He didn’t replace his hat on his head, instead letting the cool Castelia wind batter the mess of bed-head hair that slowly unfurled from his hat.

Hilbert continued walking. His legs moved tiredly, sagging in the worn jeans. The shoelaces had come undone once again. Hilbert only gave the sorry state of his clothing a passing glance, and continued to walk, tripping over his flopping shoelaces.

A passing Pidove overhead made a thick and warm white mark on his blue windbreaker. When he reached to wipe it away, he realized it was only one among many stains his jacket had endured. Hilbert merely scowled, letting it run down to his elbow.

To ease his frustration, he rubbed his eyes. Then he looked at his fingers and saw the thin layer of dirt that had formed on it; one of many that coated his face. Hilbert looked around to see if anyone had seen him. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Around the curved dock, the Pokemon Center glowed like an orange beacon of civilization.

Hilbert made a beeline for the Center, moving much quicker. The quick movements through the crowd, however satisfying to his goals, pumped heat into the tight hugging jacket. Heat waves blasted up his neck and coated his arms. It slowed Hilbert, only putting him in the thick of his stuffy hell.

The zipper was stuck. Hilbert continued fumbling with it, walking blindly into the Pokemon Center’s rotating glass doors. In his tiny glass compartment, an unholy stench wafted out of his jacket.

He tried to zip the jacket back up as he entered, but the smell of B.O. was all over him now. The people in front of and behind him weren’t very happy at all, frowning, coughing and whispering things under their breath or to people around him.

Groaning, Hilbert left the line, heading for the mart counter where there was no line. He set a stick of deodorant on the counter along with the correct amount of Poke.

 

 

 

Hilbert found a side-alley on Narrow Street, standing just on the edge where the summer sun still sat in the sky. People continued to pass by up and down the street like normal.

Trying to find a place where his bag could rest proved difficult, until he finally surrendered and set it on the edge of a puddle, balancing the backside against a grimy dumpster. His hat could barely sit atop it. When he took his blue windbreaker off, he hung it on the corner of a dumpster; a metal support used by trucks when trash is collected. It was the cleanest part of the dumpster.

The cap for Nosepass NoSmell NoOdorant clattered on the old asphalt, smashing the plastic seal that had fluttered to the ground. Hilbert clicked the chalky white bar up.

His black t-shirt fit tightly around the arms, and Hilbert gave up trying to stick the deodorant under the shirt after a few tries. Sighing, he set the deodorant upright on the ground, next to the cap. He made sure no one was outside the alley and stepped into the shade from the adjacent building. Cursing under his breath, he lifted his shirt over his head.

The shirt only got stuck a few times, where the soaked material would stick to his face. Once off, he quickly stooped over to grab the deodorant bottle.

It was gone.

Hilbert scratched his head. He gave a quick scan of his surroundings. The only evidence he could find was the flutter of the plastic wrap as it drifted under the dumpster.

Shaking his head and cursing, Hilbert went to where his jacket was, popping the collar out on his t-shirt to hang. When he got to the pole, the blue material of Hilbert’s jacket could barely be seen beneath the smooth black material of a vest.

Hilbert’s eyes went wide.

 

“Hey how’s it going there?” Hilda grinned.

 

Wheeling around and nearly twisting his ankle in the process, Hilbert bumped noses with Hilda. He sputtered, almost spitting in her face. “H-Hild—“ he choked, swallowing and regaining his voice. “So you and N caught up?”

 

Hilda’s eyeliner-thick eyelashes sat at half-mast, concealing the her bright blue eyes from the sun. The sun instead played with her thick mess golden-brown hair, which too covered her eyes, drizzling onto her sunburned cheeks.

 

“Yeah sure, cowboy,” said Hilda, stepping back a bit, but not before giving Hilbert’s naked chest a hard wet slap. “I’m sure you had plans though, hm?”

 

“Hrrrkkk…” Hilbert winced, immediately gripping his chest. “Something like that, yeah…”

 

With intense, angry dexterity, Hilda flipped the deodorant in mid-air over her skillful fingers. “Oh I bet. Where’d you pick this up at?”

 

“Pokemon Center.”

 

Hilda smirked. Her fingers pried open the arm opening on her white tank top. She had way more stains that Hilbert, skin and tank top included. Her arm flipped over her head as she lathered her stubbly armpits up.

 

“Didn’t you say you were only buying stuff for training and crap like that?” she asked.

 

“I’d kill for a shower,” he said. He pointed to the deodorant bottle. “I didn’t think I had enough time to go to a gym.”

 

“A gym?”

 

“Yeah,” said Hilbert, watching somewhat awkwardly. He leaned against the dumpster. “Cheapest way to get a shower, ever.”

 

Snickering, Hilda tossed the deodorant to Hilbert, snickering even louder as she watched him catch it. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be getting a room at the Bates Motel before I take a shower in a locker room.”

 

Hilbert clicked the wheel on the bottom again, sliding it up and down both his arms. He looked skyward, thinking quietly. “Shower’s a shower. Nothing too special about a shower, other than getting a shower. That’s pretty nice.”

 

“That may be true for guys,” said Hilda. Her back jutted out as she leaned against a brick wall. The tightly knotted shoelaces on her combat boots came undone. One at a time, she’d take her foot out of the boot, take her socks off, and douse her foot in foot powder and rub it.

 

“I thought you were ‘one of the guys’.”

 

Hilda’s head snapped up to Hilbert. Thick wavy bangs stuck to the sweat on her forehead, curling around her cheekbones. Her thick breathing suddenly shortened, as she licked her lips before speaking. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah…” A look of doubt shadowed Hilbert. His shirt slid back on. Though the shirt blocked his vision for a moment, when his head emerged he met with the exact same concerned expression Hilda had earlier.

 

“Wow,” she chuckles to herself. Putting her boots back on becomes her primary chore again. She didn’t give Hilbert so much as a passing glance; it’s become her focus in the conversation.

 

Hilbert looked on silently.

Adjusting her bag, Hilda grabbed the vest off the dumpster pike and stuffed in her bag. A pocket mirror from her bag flipped open and gave her the chance to check her hair and makeup. Then she took a brown makeup pencil from the bag and held it close to her eye, touching up her eyeliner.

 

After several silent moments, Hilda flipped the mirror down and looked at Hilbert with a wide-eyed questioning look. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Hilbert. His head had rolled down, chin resting on his chest. Eyes wide and unfocused, he looked quiet and long. His breath was short and hot through his nostrils, as he refused to open his mouth.

 

“For what?” Hilda asked, resuming her makeup. The tiny residue the pencil made mixed with the oils on her face and smeared it up to the fold on her eyelid.

 

Hilbert blinked, temporarily snapped out of his sad stupor. He blinked several more times and shook his head in an attempt to restart his thought process. “Uhhh.”

 

“The ‘one of the boys’ thing you said?”

 

“Yeah…” Hilbert trailed off. He folded his arms and resumed his solemn state. Still, thoughts continue to rush through his head, shown through his face and stuttering body actions. “Aren’t… Aren’t you mad about that?”

 

The mirror folded down again. “What? Hilbert, that’s totally okay. Don’t take it too seriously. You can take sarcasm, right?”

 

“You seemed genuinely mad, and, well, I felt awful. I’m sorry,” said Hilbert.

 

“I told you I was okay with it.”

 

“No, I mean that I said sorry,” said Hilbert, wincing at his own correction.

 

“Hilbert,” she smiled, suddenly lost in a chuckling fit. Her hair flipped to the side, bouncing outside her gaze as she smiled. Blindly, she wrestled her hair into proper shape beneath her hat. Her mirror sat perched in her hand, giving her a split-second opportunity to look away from Hilbert and at the mirror once she knew she had his attention. “Don’t do that. You hurt yourself more than anybody else when you do that.”

 

It was Hilbert’s turn to raise a confused eyebrow. “I don’t understand. Do what now?”

 

Hilda dropped her mirror unceremoniously into the bag. A wide smile still pushed her sunburned cheeks to the edges of her face. She traced an invisible mid-air circle with her finger around Hilbert’s concerned face. “This,” she said in an obvious, hushed tone.

 

“This what?”

 

“This. Where you take yourself way too seriously. It’s cute, but I think it hurts you more than it hurts, well, anybody,” said Hilda.

 

Hilbert uncrossed his arms. “Does it hurt?”

 

Laughing harder, Hilda stepped forward, offering her hand. “C’mon, walk with me. We’ve got a long way to go. I want to get to Twist Mountain before sunset.”

 

A stray, cautious eye stared at Hilda’s hand. It made Hilbert swallow, though not as hard as when he looked up at Hilda. His Adam’s apple bobbed like a fishing bobber. All ten of his fingers balled up.

 

“C’mon Hilbert, the sun’s already getting that way.”

 

The corner of a skyscraper blocked a small sliver of the sun. Sunshine trailed down to their alley as the last cloud in the sky released the rest of the sun. An ethereal glow formed along Hilda’s cheeks and through her wild tufts of hair.

 

“Hilbert,” Hilda smiled, though less excitedly and more gently. “Are you scared?”

 

“No… No, not at all…”

 

Her hand shook in mid-air uselessly. “Then c’mon, let’s go.”

 

Hilbert held his own hand out, slowly uncurling the fingers into an open hand.

Groaning, Hilda grabbed the hand and tugged Hilbert away from the dumpster he slouched on. She caught Hilbert by the shoulder before he stumbled into her, and then slowly pushed him forward until he got his footing.

They made an awkward eye contact.

 

“Hilda.”

 

“What do you want?” Hilda smirked.

 

“Can I borrow your foot powder?”

 

Hilda shut her eyes, face emotionless. She pushed Hilbert further from her slowly. “What?”

 

“Can I borrow your foot powder?”

 

“Oh, you were serious?” Hilda frowned. Standing awkwardly, she sighed and pulled her bag back around. She rooted through the bag and pulled out the bottle.

 

Hilbert watched on, somewhat sheepishly. “Thanks Hilda, I would’ve asked earlier, but you—“

 

The bottle in Hilda’s hands swung back with her arm and flew through the air, slamming violently into Hilbert’s chest.   


End file.
